Journey to the River
by waffleswafflesyumyumyum
Summary: AU. TMR/HP, slight RW/HG. Light themes. 1 Hangleton needs allies, the chieftain of the Isles needs his revenge, and Draco simply needs to amuse himself.
1. Prologue

A young man sat on the grassy riverbank near the mountain. The small yet deep river was flowing and free of filth, the area thick with trees. He leaned his chin on one of his hands, appearing to be in deep thought.

_"Promise to take care of yourself?"_

"_... Yeah."_

_"Then I must be off. Remember to change clothes, you might catch a cold. Goodbye, Tom."_

He was recalling an incident fifteen or so years ago in that very same place. Well, it was not everyday a young native woman wearing weird, tribal clothes saves Tom from a near-death experience by drowning. It was the twenty-first century, for Merlin's sake! Nevertheless, he was grateful to the lady._  
_

"_Mother of Amaya, child! What were you thinking? Were you trying to drown yourself?", the lady asked hysterically as she pulled Tom to the bank._

_"No, of course not!", Tom sneered. "I slipped! Why on earth would I end my life?"_

_She answered with little to no hesitation, "Your eyes. They are..."_

Tom frowned. He breathed deeply, wondering how in Morgana's name the woman got the idea that he was depressed... He wasn't, of course not! He sighed and wondered.

But... How come she spoke English so fluently? How come she just happened to _be_ _there _when he_ slipped? _How come... she knew?

_"... filled with grief and great sorrow."_

He stood up, resigning himself from his thoughts. That was from a long time ago, after all.

_Does she even remember me?_

_No._

His eyes closed, Tom breathed in the scent of the forest. He stood there for a few moments, just relaxing and being free from his social, political and _'family'_ life, and his work as Undersecretary to that complete dunderhead Fudge.

_"Tom," _a warm, alto voice uttered.

Startled, Tom turned around and what met him were smiling emerald eyes, moderate-length, messy hair and a kind face. Her appearance, or rather, _his_ appearance hasn't changed at all since their last meeting.

_"I finally remember you..."_ Tom muttered breathlessly. The girl— _boy_, chuckled happily. "_Do you now, Prince Thomas?"_, she—_he _asked. He didn't speak English, as Tom initially thought he did.

It was Parseltongue.

_"... Hari."_

* * *

**The prologue is just a peek in the ending, or the ending itself, maybe. ;3 stay tuned~**


	2. Isa

**Yeeeep. There goes this really, really short chapter. ****I apologize for the constant change of POV. Damn. I promise later in the story I won't need to, as in this chapter I'm only building the setting.**

***maharlika - equivalent of royalty, though on a much smaller scale**

***Hari - means "king" in Tagalog. Yes I'm totally un-creative. Daaaaamn.**

***Sival is Albus (PerCIVAL), Himi is Hermione, Romusad is Remus, and Jain is James. Ron and Luna will retain their names, I think.**

* * *

Lucius, first adviser to the King, glanced at the young Prince in front of him from his mount, who had his face shadowed by the hood of his cape. The man knew that his Lord disliked women, with their "whiny attitudes, crazy temperaments and bloody unpredictable mood swings." His Lord's words, not his. He quite loved Narcissa, thank you very much. However, he also knew that his Lord had no qualms in bedding them, therefore no qualms in being married to one.

What the Prince detested with much vigor, however, was one King Thomas II sending _him_ to marry the daughter of the chieftain of the central tribes in the Isles as a way for their nation to gain the tribes' aid in the continuing war. If the rumors were to be believed, the people of those tribes would prove to be a very helpful addition to their troops. Stories circulated that they were blessed with abilities many knew not. The King personally told him that the tribes' assistance would become their saving grace from the terrorizing nation.

Lucius genuinely hoped that their _powers_ would help save the King's life as well when the Prince chances upon an opportunity to eliminate it.

"Father," a meek voice whispered behind him.

"Draco?"

"The Prince is... furious, isn't he?"

"You have _finally_ managed to work that out, Draco? I'm impressed," the man answered, to which he received a choked, indignant "Father!" as response.

"But I believe 'furious' would be an understatement to the prince's current state of mind," Lucius continued.

"... I worry for the inhabitants of the tribe then." Draco was met with a thoughtful silence from his father, only the rhythmic, soft taps of hooves being heard for a moment.

"Let us just trust that our Lord cares more for our nation than his wrath with the King."

Lucius' grip on the reigns tightened marginally.

* * *

Sival sighed. Apparently Jain has, without hesitation, agreed to betroth his child to the prince of the neighboring empire. Did he ask Sibal? No. Did he ask Romusad? No. Did he _even_ ask the_ child_? No, of course he didn't. It was Jain, what else would Jain do than be reckless all the time?

It was a good thing the boy did not react as Sival expected when he found out about Jain's plan. If he was the child, he would've reacted as brutally as possible.

They were rather lucky that Hari didn't, for he was Eba's offspring. _Eba, _once one of the priestesses of Amaya. That was one of the many remarkable things about her._  
_

Another, of course, was her incredible fury when faced with those she loathed, which matched her flaming red hair quite nicely, the middle-aged man thought. He idly stroked his short beard, once auburn but now graying like his hair.

The nobles of Hangleton would arrive soon. So much to do, so little time.

* * *

A bushy-haired servant (though not treated as such) studied her friend's face, looking for something. Anger, confusion, some sort of emotion, _anything_. Anything other than the indifference and acceptance in the boy's eyes. It was frustrating. Hari wasn't like this. Hari was _never_ like this. He was emotional, with a quick temper and certainly a moody teenage boy who acted on instinct. Himi wasn't used to seeing this emotionless mask on his friend's face.

"And the messengers left right after they received the chief's assent, just like that? They didn't even ask to see you? They thought you were a... woman?", she asked skeptically, but couldn't help and giggle at the thought.

"Yes, Himi," Hari sighed exasperatedly.

"Well, it was your fault for donning female clothes everyday in the first place. Now rumors spread and people actually think you're a... a _princess_!" The girl shook her head, "Hah, I long to see the expression on this prince's face when he realizes they have been tricked! You can't possibly bear an heir for him!"

Hari flushed at the thought, yelling a quick and embarrassed "Shut up, Himi!"

Himi laughed heartily while Hari released a distressed sound from the back of his throat. They sat there, comfortable with the companionable silence they shared. She was sitting cross-legged in the grass, hands on her knees and shoulders hunched. Her companion, however, was laying on his back with his hands on the back of his head, appearing completely at ease. They were both dressed in female ethnic wear; a sleeved tunic with intricate designs, and a skirt that flowed down to the knees, although Hari's patterns appeared to be more complicated. He was also wearing two gold bangles on his left arm and a necklace. He was _maharlika_, after all.

But only a few moments later, the girl lost all humor from her face, thinking the facts over with much intensity, connecting truths with thoughts. Her mildly thick brows were furrowed in concentration.

She knew that the empire close to their land, Hangleton, was involved in a decade long war. Their foe, Nurmengard Empire, were quickly gaining the upper hand. Their tribe was influential, powerful. It lead all the others in close proximity. It was blessed by Amaya, said to be where Amaya herself was born. Their tribe was blessed with, for a lack of better word, _magic_.

Eba, Hari's mother, was murdered by Gellert Grindelwald, emperor of Nurmengard in an unfortunate incident in the river near their camp, along with Rian, Sival's sister. The only ones who knew what happened that night thirteen years ago were Sival and Jain. It hurt their chieftain to talk about it, and Sival completely evaded questions that certain topic with much effort.

Hangleton needed an advantage. Hari and Jain wanted to avenge Eba.

"Are you sure about this, Hari?", she whispered, concerned for her friend and master.

Hari was silent. It was Himi's turn to sigh.

"I'll take that as a 'no', then."

* * *

Draco was _bored. _It was taking too long to get there. Nimbus, his horse, needs food, water and rest. Draco certainly needed some form of diversion to survive this absolutely dreadful trip. Whose genius idea was it to send him with the Prince anyway? They didn't need him, only his father.

Oh but of course.

_"Wake up, little dragon."_

_Draco let out a growl that sounded vaguely like, "Go away, mother!"_

_"Draco! Your father's getting ready. You should too, as you've been asking him these past weeks if you could accompany him to the Isles! Rise and shine, sweetheart!"_

Ah. It was his own idea of course. Curse it all.

He glanced at the bags carrying the gifts for the tribe princess, wondering if he could get at least an apple for Nimbus without anyone noticing.

He got a warning glance from his father.

Draco groaned.

He wished he was lounging around the manor with his Mum.


End file.
